Land of Gods
by Beautiful Taboo
Summary: The reason he fought that day was because the world turned out not to be as beautiful as he promised. Kamina-centric, implied Kamina/Simon


**Entry to MissMiako's FIC ME! FIC ME! contest in aarinfantasy with the prompt: Redemption. THERE ARE SERIES SPOILERS.**

**A/N:** This was initially a fic written in Simon's POV. Midway, I had to stop and suddenly wanted to tell it in Kamina's. But he's DEAD, I told myself. And this happened. I wanted to portray their relationship as something pure and subtle and waiting for the right moment to burst out (which, unfortunately, never happened). I hope I got it right. Enjoy!

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**LAND OF GODS**

by Beautiful Taboo

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(Gods never die.)

.

.

Kamina wakes up in a place he does not recognize. He sees nothing, although he is sure that he is _somewhere_, because it _must_ be somewhere. He closes his eyes and tries to remember where he has been before that place, but he cannot. Everything is hazy.

He has forgotten.

.

He begins to walk around and he finds a stream. It is a strange stream. Of course, he remembers how streams are supposed to look like (at least, he _thinks_ he remembers) and the slightly purple water seems wrong.

Nevertheless, he bends down and looks into it.

In the water, he sees a young boy with wide, scared eyes, sitting on a large rock in what appears to be an underground place. His long bangs fall over those eyes, and he sees another boy – slightly older, much taller and much less scared – standing behind him, scissors in hand. This older boy is annoyed, he can tell, because the younger one seems hesitant to agree to have his hair cut.

"Stop moving around, Simon, if ya don't want me cutting off something that's not hair!"

"But I don't want my hair cut!" the younger boy, Simon, protests, wriggling.

"Now, now, leave it to your aniki. I know what I'm doing!" He holds the boy's head in place and Simon finally gives in. The older one's scissors go _snip snap snip snap_ in a sure motion, and he mutters, "Who the hell do you think I am, anyway? Tsch."

"Not a barber, that's for sure," Simon mutters under his breath, giving up and slumping in his seat.

"What did you say?"

He pulls away from the image and touches his hair and his mouth and his eyes and he grins. He knows that he is the older boy, and wonders if this is his first memory. He mouths the name 'Simon' and closes his eyes, as he tries to remember how the hair must have felt against his hands.

He does not remember.

.

He walks further into the mist (or fog or smoke or God-knows-what) and stops when he sees a tree. He looks around, and discovers that the tree is alone. He goes to it and touches the rough bark. He finds that tied to it is a strange, red cloth. It seems familiar, but he does not remember. Even so, he unties the cloak and drapes it over his shoulder.

He decides to climb.

He goes higher, higher, higher. There is something in him that makes him desire reaching the top. He pushes his feet against the neverending branches, his eyes not leaving his goal.

Hours and hours go by. He tires out. He stops and rests on one of the branches, and leans his head against the trunk. He looks at the distance and sees nothing but mist, and he closes his eyes.

He sees Simon again, but this time, Simon is sleeping. His other self is sitting in front Simon, and they are both in front of the mouth of a large, gaping hole. In Simon's hands was a dirty drill, and in his… dirt.

"Did a nice job there, Simon," he hears himself say, as he watches himself wipe his hands on his pants. "You keep digging right up to the ceiling and your aniki here'll keep on exploring those holes and finding the way out. You can count on me." He laughs loudly and arrogantly, but the young boy stirs so he shuts himself up. He spends the next minutes of silence staring at Simon.

"Oi, Simon."

No answer.

"You know why I want to go out to the surface, right?"

No answer.

"What's that! You don't? Why the hell are you in the Gurren Brigade, then! You bastard!" He wonders if he is crazy, talking to himself like that. He watches as his other self settles down again and mutters in an embarrassed tone (perhaps he realized how silly he actually looked), "Well, I'll make an exception this time, 'cause you're my bro. Listen here and listen well, Simon."

He sees him touch the younger boy's cheek gently, with a smile on his face.

"I want you to see how beautiful the surface is," he says, bending down onto Simon's face, and touching his lips lightly on the boy's forehead. "It's the most beautiful thing in the world, you got that? My old man showed it to me, and this guy here'll show it to you, too." He points to himself with his thumb and grins, mostly to himself. Then he sits back and watches Simon sleep once more. "You deserve much more than this mole-life, ya know?"

He opens his eyes to the mist and believes the words of his other self without any doubt. He wonders if he kept the promise. He wonders if Simon is still alive.

He climbs down of the tree and walks again.

.

He stops when he reaches a wall. He looks at the two sides and sees that the wall extends further into the distance; it appears to have no end at all. He looks up and sees how high it is, and he laughs to himself.

He walks a few paces back. Finally, he runs towards the wall and runs up against it. Midway, he falls.

He does this again and again, and every time, he fails.

On his tenth attempt, he stops to think, and he sits on the floor, with his back against the marble.

Another image appears, although this one doesn't have Simon. Instead, it is a girl with fiery red hair and a beautiful body and a nice smile. He wonders if he loves – or loved – this girl, and he thinks deeply about it, and he realizes that he does not know her name. She is talking to him, and he is talking back, in regular voices.

She kisses him.

He clenches his fist against his chest, and he wonders why. But the feeling of the actual kiss is lost on him. Were her lips warm? Soft? Sweet? He looks happy, in his memory. He groans; his chest is hurting.

His other self kisses her back.

It is a long, deep kiss. A kiss of thanks, apology and parting. A kiss of many other things.

He knows that Simon is watching somewhere, and he stops. Maybe Simon will kiss the same mouth someday. Maybe he won't, because he'll think that this girl is his older brother's, even though she isn't. People can't belong to other people, just like Simon can't be his. But he remembers that he is already Simon's, everything, everything, just as this girl has given herself to him.

He pushes the thought away.

It scares him a bit.

"I'll return it ten times," his other self says. It is an empty promise because it is a promise meant for someone else. Because, more than a promise, it is an apology.

Kamina opens his eyes and looks up and sees that the wall has crumbled. He stands up and steps over it, onto the other side.

.

He reaches a dead-end. Nothing but a dark, black, seemingly endless hole at the end of the mist. He groans in frustration, and sits on the ground, scratching his head. Again, sighing, he closes his eyes and lets himsef lie down on the misty ground.

The next memory, he knows, begins from where the last one finished off.

He can see Simon curled up in a ball inside his strange face-like contraption (Gun- Gan-_something_, the name is at the tip of his tongue), with his little mole beside him. He is muttering a muffled phrase over and over, and he finds it adorable, in a painful sort of way. He remembers Simon looking up at him, with scared, confused eyes. They are asking about that kiss, about that girl, about him, but his mouth says nothing.

"You can do it," the other Kamina says, instead.

They fight. They fight with machines bigger than their own. They fight with Simon, with his insecurity, with his fear. They fight even after Simon conquers it.

And he watches the battle and sees his death.

His eyes open on their own.

He pushes himself up and stands on the edge of the cliff. He looks down below and jumps.

.

.

He has forgotten.

Except for one thing.

The reason he fought that day was because the world turned out not to be as beautiful as he promised.

.

.

_Aniki?_

_Yeah? You still awake, Simon?_

_Yeah. The stars are nice. I can't sleep._

_WHAT? Good men sleep eight hours a day! Go back to bed!_

_Aniki, you haven't slept yet, either._

_…_

_Can I sit next to you?_

_Don't tell me you're scared. Don't give me that look. Oh, fine. Fine. Come up here, Simon. Don't you get any weird ideas now._

_What weird ideas?_

_…_

_Aniki?_

_Yeah?_

_Thank you. For everything up until now. The surface is great – it's everything you said. Well, except for the beastmen… and the fighting… sort of…_

_…_

_…_

_You tryin' to make me cry or something, Simon?_

_W-Wha—No! I-I'm just saying thank you, that's all._

_Listen, Simon. Remember everything I told you, and remember our oath: You and I were meant for great things. We are brothers bounded by soul. Your drill'll be the one to pierce the heavens, believe in me who believes in you, believe in-_

_I know, aniki. How about you?_

_Me? I'll always be the great Kamina-sama! My will and strength will reach beyond the heavens, and I'll rise above the gods! Ahahahaha!_

_You're kidding, right?_

_Oi, oi, oi. When have I ever lied to you, Simon?_

.

.

(Gods are free from pain and from being human.)

.

.

Kamina does not wake up and his dream continues.

In his dream, he sees darkness, sand and people. He must know these people, he thinks. They are gathered around a cross that holds the same cloak he is wearing. He is dead, he realizes, and these people are grieving for him.

He walks towards them, and sees Simon on top of the rock, beside the cross. Simon is crying, and Kamina reaches out. His hand doesn't pass through, as he expected, but Simon doesn't feel his touch. Kamina feels, though. He feels Simon's grimy, stained cheek, as if he is there.

"Aniki," Simon mumbles, his nose dripping and his chest heaving painfully. "I don't understand."

Someone calls for Simon; it's that girl. The girl with the red hair. Simon speaks faster, almost rambling. His words are unsure, but they come out in a relentless eruption.

"I'll try to. But I'm scared and I hate myself for being scared because you told me I shouldn't be. 'Cause I think I understand things, only I don't want to admit that I understand them because it wouldn't be good. I'm confused and my chest hurts a lot when I think about things like that." He wipes his tears messily on his sleeves. "I don't want you to die yet. I want to think that you're confused, too, so I won't be alone."

The girl calls again, this time, louder.

Simon reaches out to touch the cloak and takes a deep breath.

"Maybe I don't see you as an older brother anymore." He sniffles, and realizes that he is confessing to a dead man; he blushes and his tears burn his already hot cheeks. "Maybe I loved you."

Simon runs back to them.

Kamina wakes up, staring into the darkness.

He reaches out to his face and he realizes that he is crying.

.

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(Gods cannot love.)

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Kamina doesn't leave the place. Instead, he explores, and one day, he finds a hole. Without anywhere else to go, Kamina steps in and finds himself in the sky; the surface's sky, his sky.

He feels the wind and the sunlight against his body (or soul, perhaps, but maybe there's no difference) and he descends, letting the currents carry him. He knows his destination, he knows where he is supposed to be, and he closes his eyes.

The memories do not come anymore.

He smiles.

Kamina is not a god.

And he will never be.

.

.

(Gods live forever.)

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**FIN**


End file.
